Dear Mama
by Puffin Person
Summary: Really short, just a random idea I came up with and decided to write down. A letter from Momiji to his mother, and why he never delivered it. NOT A HAPPY ENDING! A two shot. I wonder if angst is the right genre...
1. Chapter 1

**I'm really not good at humor, so here is another serious story! Read and Review! Or don't. I know that sometimes it's just awkward and you don't know what to write, but you feel bad if you don't, and….. Well, maybe that's just me. Anyway, you're already here, so at least read.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Furuba, I would be Natsuki Takaya. And If I was Natsuki Takaya, I would not be invisible. (I mean, seriously! How can someone stare right into your face and not notice you! Gah! Anywho, sorry for the angsty outburst.) Therefore, I think it is safe to assume that I do not own Fruits Basket. **

Dear Mama

_ He looked proudly at the letter he had just finished, ready to give it to Mama. Maybe, If his handwriting was neat enough, his spelling perfect enough, she would care. She wouldn't forget._

Dear Mama,

Im sorry. Plese dont forget me.

LOVE,

Momiji

_ He ran to the room where his Mama and Tori-nii were talking. He had opened the door a little when a bit of the conversation reached his ears._

"_-won't regret your decision?"_

"_The only regret I have is that that….__** thing **__came out of my body."_

_ The last comment was said with spite, so strong that when Momiji heard it, he knew that it was too late to change anything with a simple letter. He let the paper fall out of his hand and onto the floor, then turned and ran. All he could think of was how foolish he had been to think that a letter could stop his Mama from forgetting anything._

Of course, he knew better now. Now that the curse was lifted, he realized that something simple: a letter, an out stretched hand, any small gesture to show that you too were human…. It could even change the most twisted of minds. But it didn't matter anymore. What was done was done, and there was no room for any more regrets. Maybe if he had given her the letter, she wouldn't have forgotten. Maybe she would have anyway. But no one would know.

**That was depressing. And short. This is going to be a two-shot, so don't be too mad about the length. Oh yeah! Momiji's letter is supposed have bad grammar and spelling. He's about two, so he wouldn't be writing very well.**


	2. Mama's Letter

** Hi! I've finally gotten around to writing the second chapter of this story! (Not that less than a week is a particularly long time to wait for an update.) I'm going to assume that people are actually reading this story, and the lack of reviews is because they, like me, feel really awkward when writing reviews. However, thanks to: LOLChanny819 (wondering why she didn't log in), The Insufferable Vegemite, Muffalo829, and You Know Who this is Puffin (Who, If the 'Puffin' part is any clue knows me and feels like making fun me...RACHEL! Or is it Kimberly?) Thanks also to zyeIN, who favorited my story, Of course LOLChanny819 and the Muffalo don't count, because they know that they soon would breathe their last if they didn't review. Anyways, on to the story By the way, the only parts of this story that I own are Momiji's letter, the sad excuse for a plot, and the quote, which is actually of my own design, and therefore not actually a quote. **

Chapter 2: Mama's Letter

The only thing Momiji's mother remembered about a child was the stillborn years ago. (A/N this is how I assume they covered up her memory loss. That, and saying she'd been in an accident.) Well, there was Momo, but she had been born after she had found the letter, so that didn't fit. And the letter was asking her to keep her memories; presumably the ones she had lost after the accident.

_It was A few days after she had woken up with a hole in her memory and a simple explanation of an 'accident' for it. She was cleaning the house, and came upon a letter on the floor, written in yellow crayon._

Dear Mama,

Im sorry. Plese dont forget me.

LOVE,

Momiji 

_ This letter was addressing her. There was nothing stating this; she simply knew. "A mother can forget her child, but she'll always know he's missing." Her mother had said that once when she was young- she had forgotten the context of the conversation by now, but that sentence stuck with her. It seemed to relate to her situation perfectly now. She didn't remember raising a child, yet here was proof that she had: proof that she knew was correct._

__Returning to the present, the woman sighed. If only she had received the letter before she had forgotten. Then maybe her memories would still be intact. Because although she wanted to believe that she was only imagining things, the letter was accusing her. She had chosen to forget, and now she regretted it. Outside, she saw the blond Sohma boy walking up the street- probably going to school.

**Now you may complain about the length. **


End file.
